


A Home For The Holidays

by speccygeekgrrl



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-06
Updated: 2009-10-06
Packaged: 2017-10-02 12:39:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speccygeekgrrl/pseuds/speccygeekgrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandra thinks it's a shame that Noah's partner would spend Thanksgiving alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Home For The Holidays

**Author's Note:**

> Set around 1991.

Of course, Sandra didn't know much about her husband's sales partner. She'd met Claude a few times, always to Noah's obvious agitation, but she couldn't tell why he was so upset about it. The British man was always so polite, never twinging her suspicion. Maybe it was simply that Noah was too fastidious about keeping his home life and work life separated.

"You should ask Claude to come here for Thanksgiving dinner. The poor man doesn't have any family nearby," Sandra suggested on Sunday night as they went to bed. "And you know I always cook too much for the two of us."

"He doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving. We're the colonists, remember?" Noah smiled at her as he climbed into bed, leaning over to kiss her temple. "I don't think he'd accept."

"You can at least ask him, Noah. There's nothing wrong with offering some hospitality." She looked at her husband, eyes going sad. "It just breaks my heart to think of someone so alone on a holiday." He sighed-- even with Company training, Sandra could break through his defenses with a glance and a word (as long as it wasn't Company business), and the gentle pout to her lips was the last push.

"I'll ask him," he relented, and kissed her; a goodnight kiss turned into the prelude to more when she slid her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer, determined to discover what her husband had against his coworker.

\---

"Thank you for your invitation, Mrs. Bennet," Claude said politely when Sandra opened the door, offering her a bakery box and a smile. She stood aside, motioning him in.

"Please, Claude, you'll make me feel old. Call me Sandra." He nodded, and she tipped her head toward the living room, the box held in both hands. "Noah's watching the game. Dinner should be ready soon." She sauntered down the hallway, blonde hair a cloud around her shoulders, and Claude had to shake his head as he found his partner.

"Not this again, mate." He sat next to Noah on the couch, rolling his eyes. "This isn't football, it's half-arsed rugby."

"It's more manly than soccer," Noah countered automatically, continuing the argument that had been honed over their couple years of partnership. "Oh, come on! What kind of a call was that?" Smirking, Claude sat back, watching Noah watch the game-- for once not having to be invisible as he eyed his younger partner freely.

Straight-laced Noah and his pretty wife. Claude was jealous, he'd admit that readily enough; considering that the most human contact he got was Noah's hands trying to stop the bleeding from a knife wound Claude had once acquired, it was no wonder that he had a bad case of Bennet-based beat-off fantasies. Noah almost leaped out of his seat when one of the teams scored. Claude wasn't looking at the TV, but Noah's long legs.

"Turn off the TV, honey, and come carve this turkey." Sandra poked her head around the doorway, a perfect curl falling across one eye that she tucked back absently. "What would you like to drink, Claude? We have apple cider, Pinot Noir, milk..."

He didn't think twice, just made what he knew was a bad choice. "A glass of wine sounds lovely, thank you."

\---

Sandra's cheeks were flushed, and she licked the last bit of ice cream off her spoon before using it to gesture, a tipsy maestro spinning out an overture of after-dinner conversation. "And then he knelt down, right there in the mud, and proposed to me. Wrecked his rental suit but good." She beamed at Noah, squeezing his wrist with her free hand. "Now every time I see a football field, I mist up a lil' bit."

"Isn't that romantic." Claude was a teensy bit too drunk to stand this: the happy couple reminiscing, a smile on Noah's face that he'd never seen before, his lips red with wine; Sandra's eyes bright, the line of her neck as she tossed her hair, the _looks_ she was giving Noah-- and then the look she gave Claude. She was too pretty and innocent to look so devious, so calculating; he thought he imagined it when she batted her eyes and stood up.

"Well, I'm going to clean up this table. You boys shoo, or else clear the dishes for me." Of course, when she put it like that, they had to help her; it took no time at all until they were standing around, the last of the wine split between their glasses, and Sandra got that look in her eye again.

"Sandra... what are you thinking?" Noah asked, playfully suspicious. So Claude wasn't the only one who noticed, good. Sandra rolled the stem of her wineglass between finger and thumb, looking between her husband and his associate with a slight smile.

"I'm thinking about what I said to you last night." Claude was bemused, especially when Noah's cheeks reddened in a way that had nothing to do with the wine. "May I, dear?"

They were the points of an unsteady triangle, passing glances defining the lines between them-- Claude's eyes a clear fair blue, Noah's darker and with a touch of grey, and Sandra's a sweet robin's egg hue-- one line of utter confusion, one of calculation, one of pleading. Finally Noah relented, his eyes closing as in defeat. "Anything you want, Sandra."

Claude froze when his partner's pretty wife moved closer, pulling him closer with a hand on his neck. "You look at my husband an awful lot," she said quietly, "and I can tell what you're thinking." He opened his mouth to protest, and she gave him a warning squeeze. "No, listen. I like you, Claude Rains, and I know my Noah does too, for all he acts like he doesn't. I can't give him everything he wants, but if you're willing, I'd let you give him some of what I can't."

His mouth was dry, his eyes wide, as Sandra brushed his hair back from his forehead and smiled like the Cheshire cat. "Er. Noah? Does she mean--?"

"Probably exactly what you're thinking," Sandra cut him off, sparing a glance for her still-blushing spouse. "_I'm_ going upstairs. You two, sort things out." She kissed Claude on the cheek, reclaimed her glass and did the same to Noah as she walked out of the kitchen. The men stared at each other, both embarrassed, both turned on.

"You... really want to?" Claude finally managed after finishing off his wine, uncertain if he was really tipsy enough to give in to the offer he so desperately wanted to accept. Noah bit his lip but didn't look away.

"I do, yes." Slowly, Claude smiled, taking two steps and thoroughly invading Noah's personal space.

"I didn't think you had it in you, rookie," he said brightly, and did what he'd thought about doing so many times while they were out on missions, long stakeouts in the car, or hours of paperwork at the Company offices: he slid a hand into Noah's neat hair, pulled him closer, and coaxed his way past Noah's lips. The taste of wine in Noah's mouth was heady, made Claude feel even more intoxicated; the soft heartfelt groan that caught in Noah's throat could have made his knees buckle if he didn't have such a good reason to stay on his feet.

"Shall we follow her?" Claude asked, forehead against Noah's, unwilling to move away now that they were so close they shared breath. "Wouldn't want to keep her waiting..."

"Yeah." Noah didn't move either but to settling both hands just above Claude's narrow hips. "I do love her, you know."

"Never doubted that for a moment." Claude pushed his hand through Noah's hair again, reluctantly pulling away and tugging Noah along behind him. "Now stop shoring up your conscience and let's go."

Sandra was waiting for them in the bedroom, a short robe showing off some lovely cleavage and long bare legs delicately crossed. "And here I was worried you boys would take forever. Go on now, off with your clothes." Young, pretty, and surprisingly steely under that silken voice. They were quick to obey, Noah standing behind Claude and unknotting his tie, unbuttoning his shirt, kissing the side of his throat.

Claude was more than willing to shed the clothes Noah undid for him, until his partner's hands moved lower, one pressing flat against the bulge in Claude's pants and the other flicking the button, unzipping the fly. "Now hang on, mate..." Under Sandra's warmly interested stare and Noah's hot exploring hands he shivered, arousal tempered with a slight bit of trepidation.

"No," Noah growled into his ear, pushing Claude's pants down his thighs and tracing the outline of his cock through white cotton briefs. "I won't hang on." Sandra smiled, waving a finger at her husband.

"Be nice, Noah. You're going to scare the poor boy." That was almost enough to make Claude bristle; he turned to strip Noah instead, hands ungentle and needy as he bared broad shoulders, a trim waist, legs that seemed endless when Claude knelt to pull each trouser leg free from Noah's ankles. Behind him, Sandra sighed. "Stay down there, Claude. You wouldn't mind sucking him a bit, would you?"

"Mind? It'd be my pleasure." Already Claude was rubbing his cheek against the fine blond hair on Noah's thigh, mindful of both of the Bennets watching his every move. It was enough to give a bloke performance anxiety, if he wasn't already hard as steel from the undefined acts to ensue at Sandra's direction.

Noah reached down, defying Claude's expectations by simply petting his brown hair; when Claude glanced up he saw Noah's lip bitten, the flush from his cheeks spreading down his chest, his dark eyes gone darker still. Licking his lips, Claude turned his head just enough to touch his tongue to the tip of Noah's cock, already tasting bitter precome and not minding in the least.

No holding back, not when he was handed what he'd fantasized about and on a silver platter no less. Noah was thick, made Claude's jaw ache from accommodating his width, and the older agent knew that he'd be rubbing at it ruefully for days-- a visceral reminder of this night. One hand slid around to learn the topography of Noah's very nice ass: muscle padded just enough to define a curve and not a line, soft skin, the heat of the crevasse he teased one finger through and the reaction that got, Noah _keening_ and shoving deeper into Claude's throat.

He pulled away coughing, rubbing his throat with one hand. "Ow, dammit. Warn a man!" At least Noah looked properly repentant. Sandra's polite throat-clearing was completely out of place, immediately getting both men's attention.

"Now now, that was uncalled for, Noah." Her short robe covered even less with her legs spread slightly and her fingers trailing her inner thighs. "Do you want him to return the favor, Claude, or do you just want to fuck him now?"

If his mouth hadn't already been open, Claude's jaw would have dropped. "Uh," he said, glancing up at Noah and back at her. "I'm-- just here to take orders," he finished lamely, but she grinned and nodded.

"Yes, you are, aren't you? All right, why don't you get on the bed and get comfortable. Noah, come here." The tall man had to bend to let his wife murmur into his ear; Claude watched in fascination as Noah took hold of Sandra's chair as she rose and paced around him, then raised a perfectly-manicured hand to slap his ass so hard it went red in the shape of her fingers. "No one likes to get face-fucked by surprise, dear." She swatted him again, making him yelp. "Not Claude, not me, not anyone." Two more, and then her hand switched from swift pain to a sweet caress. "Go apologize to him. If he doesn't want you to blow him, then I want you go get yourself ready for him to fuck you. Got it?"

"Yes..." Confronting the most dangerous specials, coolly exchanging banter with their frankly scary employers, even badly wounded, Claude had never heard Noah's voice tremble the way it did now. "Anything you say, Sandra." She cupped his face with both hands, kissing him once twice thrice, then giving him a nudge toward the bed.

Noah's eyes were blue fire when he joined Claude on the bed, stretched out long beside him, head very nearly in his lap already. "Hullo," Claude said quietly, unashamed to ogle Noah's body, so long and well-defined. Noah arched both eyebrows, managing to be sardonic silently.

"I'm sorry for choking you, Claude."

"That's all right. No harm done." Hell, he wouldn't mind too much getting hurt in the pursuit of fantasy fulfillment anyhow. Lips pursed, Noah watched him intently until Claude exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and said, "You still want me to have you? Really sure about it?"

"No, I've been joking this whole time." Noah rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. Absolutely certain. You even have my wife's permission. What else do you want before you'll fuck me?"

"Not a thing." Claude patted Noah's cheek gently. "Get ready for the ride of your life, mate."

Noah rolled over, tucking his knees under himself, and reached into the bedside drawer for a tube of slick. Claude shifted closer to the end of the bed, eyes fixing on the curve of Noah's spine leading down: one end of the arc flowing into the slope of his neck, the other defining the more convex curve that divided his ass.

"How long has it been since the last time we did this, Noah? Four years?" Sandra's voice was conversational, and when Claude glanced at her he was surprised that she could speak so evenly while circling a lazy fingertip on her clit. She smirked at Claude's gaze, licking her lips teasingly.

"Five and a half." Noah, on the other hand, sounded like he was running before doing anything more strenuous than rubbing lube around his asshole-- not even trying to slip a finger in yet. "Three months before we got married."

"Oh, that's right." She nodded, still holding Claude's eyes with her own. "I don't mind what Noah does, as long as I'm still involved. He said you'd be good at taking orders."

"How'd a nice girl like you get so good at giving them?" Claude asked boldly. Both Bennets laughed, one breathlessly and one delightedly.

"I was the captain of the cheerleading squad five years running. Straight on through to college." She flashed a smile, and he could almost picture her in a snug sweater and a little skirt. "And somehow I fell for this handsome geek instead of the football captain," she said fondly, rising from her chair at last to sit next to Noah and run her fingers through his sweat-damp hair. "Come on, sweetheart, why're you going so slow?"

"It's been a while. Weren't we just talking about this?" Sandra rolled her eyes, taking the hand reaching back by the wrist and pulling it to the bed.

"Claude, could you pick up the tempo a lick? I'd like to see Noah getting fucked tonight rather than some point later this week." Turning his head, Noah gave his wife a grumpy look that turned shocked as Claude pushed two slippery fingers in at once. The older man stilled at Noah's gasp, pale eyes widening.

"Didn't hurt, keep going." The roll of Noah's hips was more of a reassurance than his tight, clipped voice; Sandra let him pillow his head on her lap as Claude scissored his fingers, working Noah open with deliberate, leisurely motions. "More," Noah requested after a moment of this attention, "just one more, then do it..." Another squeeze from the tube, and Claude worked the tip of his ring finger in beside the first two, fascinated by how Noah's body yielded around the steady pressure, by the way simply curling one finger could make his whole long frame quiver.

"Oh, he's ready now," Sandra purred, cupping Noah's cheek gently, looking down into his dazed eyes. "Here." She tossed a condom packet at Claude without looking at him; all her attention was on her husband.

"Can he go on his back?" Claude didn't put on the rubber right away. He ran his clean hand up one of Noah's thighs, reached forward to give his neglected erection a quick tug, then caressed down his other thigh. "I'd like to see him better..."

"Roll over, honey." A tap on his shoulder, and Noah turned, his head still in Sandra's lap, one leg hooking over Claude's shoulder. They both looked at him expectantly.

If Claude had ever been this entirely aroused in his life, he couldn't remember how. Two pairs of blue, blue eyes watched him rip open the foil with his teeth, followed his hand when he rolled the condom on, widened slightly as he guided his cock to Noah's hole and pushed slow and steady until the thick head pushed past the last of the resistance and into Noah's tight heat.

"Oh, fucking hell," Claude whispered, pausing as his eyes fell shut. "Fuck. Let me kiss him, Sandra, you have to let me."

"Of course you can," she said, voice thick as honey, and Claude let his hips guide his motion, a quick slide up until his balls met Noah's skin and his tongue parted Noah's lips.

The sound Noah made was incredible: eighty percent gasp, fifteen percent moan, and a definite hint of a sob. Claude swallowed it all, kissed Noah through the shock, the instinctive clench against being penetrated; kissed him until Noah relaxed, and the desperation of their kisses became Noah's breath panted against Claude's mouth.

"Lord almighty," Sandra murmured, sounding miles away; her nails scratched lightly along Claude's scalp, slipped down to run gentle along her husband's stretched, vulnerable throat. "Look at you two." Her robe had fallen open; the pink that stained her cheeks colored all the way to the upper slopes of her breasts, and her nipples were hard, peaked like raspberries. Noah turned his head, nuzzling low on her belly, and Sandra chuckled. "You better keep him focused," she told Claude with a laugh in her voice.

"Not a problem." Withdrawing almost to the tip, Claude gave Noah's cock a smooth pull to get his attention. "Oi. Bennet. She'll still be here when I'm done with you." Stormy blue eyes didn't return to him until Claude rammed forward, rocking Noah's whole body with the thrust.

"Aah--!" That got his attention and held it. Noah's hands clutched Claude's shoulders, fingers digging in hard as he was thoroughly worked over by his coworker. As flip and irreverent as Claude was usually, he was all business now, and his business was pinning Noah to the mattress and trying his best to fuck him clear through it. "Claude, _touch me_, you bastard."

"The mouth on you," Claude said chidingly (and breathlessly), but he paired the rhythm of rocking into and out of Noah with a hand around the younger man's neglected cock, squeezing and pulling with no sort of pattern at all, working him up into more of a frenzy with no resolution in sight.

"He does have quite the mouth," Sandra agreed; both her hands were taken with caressing Noah's face, his shoulders, the sides of his neck. "Noah, sweetie, you'd better be ready to take care of me once Claude's done with you." Her thighs shifted under his head, and Noah nodded with eyes pressed tightly shut.

Claude couldn't help it; he plunged into Noah until there was no further he could go, hand fairly flying between their bellies, and made a breathless request. "Could I. I'd love to, oh Jesus..." He turned and kissed Sandra's stomach, all soft skin and the light taste of femininity. "May I go down on you," he managed, and whimpered when Noah's grip on his shoulders tightened.

"She's my wife," he said, as threateningly as he could be while being fucked. Claude gave him a completely confused look.

"You're her husband." He punctuated his point with a few quick, shallow thrusts, smirking as he dragged across Noah's prostate and the man trembled. "All I want's a taste..."

"Noah. Don't be unfair," Sandra purred, looking down at him with loving but insistent eyes. "You'll be right here." Still, Noah scowled until Claude leaned to tease the frown out of his lips with messy hot kisses and a sigh.

"No, s'allright, he's got a say." Dragging his nose against Noah's as he pulled back, Claude licked his lips delicately. "Selfish fucker," he added mockingly, delighting in how Noah's eyes lit up with anger.

"Shut your mouth." The hands on Claude's shoulders moved down, and Noah dug his short nails in, fingers like steel pressing into Claude's narrow hips.

Claude grinned, sharp-edged. "No, I get it. Sandra trusts you, but you don't trust her." He let Noah's rough grip draw him in, but kept his distance from the lips he'd just kissed, only returning the pull in kind on Noah's cock. Sandra laughed-- really laughed, absolutely amused-- and pulled Claude's head nearer with a delicate hand on his neck.

"You're an instigator, Mr. Rains. If you're not careful, Noah might get defensive, and he bites when he's defensive." Her eyes were bright, voice teasing; neither of them glanced down at Noah before she leaned the rest of the way in and pursed her lips around the curve of Claude's lower lip.

"Sandra, please..." Noah sounded weak, breathless, turning his head away from the (delicious) unbearable sight of his older partner ravishing his wife's mouth. "Not with him."

"He's my guest too, Noah." She stroked his cheek absently, eyes fluttering as she watched Claude pull back and lick his lips. "And you know you're the only one I'll ever let inside me, but I think we can share sweet little Claude here, can't we?"

"There's enough of me to go around," Claude said; when he looked down at Noah he looked apologetic. "But here I am talking when you're still on edge. Just let go, Noah, we've got you." It was a shock when Claude started to move again, going from shallow barely-there motions to bed-shaking thrusts. Sandra knocked his hands away and took over touching her husband's cock, whispering something to him that Claude couldn't hear, but that made Noah quake even more.

"Stop being so willful." Sandra twisted her wrist, raked her nails up Noah's firm stomach, and that finally set him off between the two. Noah's groan was matched a moment later by Claude's, stubborn stamina ended by the muscles seizing around him, the half-angry, half-blissful look on Noah's face. Sandra chewed on her lower lip, holding her breath against the sweetness of seeing the man she loved and the man they'd invited into their bed both lost in climax, silly but wonderful grimaces and all the trembling muscles of mindblowing orgasms painted vivid with their pale bodies.

"Fantastic," Claude sighed, kissing Noah's cheek before drawing away slowly. Noah took his time opening his eyes, feeling the bed shift with Claude's momentary departure, Sandra's long hair brush his cheek gently, her hands push at his shoulders.

"Noah, darling, don't you dare fall asleep now," she said, slightly more threateningly than lovingly. "You've got to keep an eye on the proceedings, don't you?"

"Hmm?" Noah blinked up at her, then gasped when fingers tickled the bottom of his foot. "Claude! Damn it!"

"You're really a piece of work, Bennet." Claude grinned, meeting his partner's eyes with a great deal more fondness than usual. "Now, Sandra, what's what?"

"Just waiting on Noah here to move his ass." Noah shot her a long-suffering look, and Claude smirked, coming around to sit by Noah's side and run a damp washcloth over his sticky stomach. "Doesn't seem like he's in the mood to shift, though."

"Sandra, you're really determined to--" She cut her husband off with a hand across his mouth, and Noah sighed in resignation. "Mmph." Once she lifted her fingers, he said, "All right, all right! You can't blame a man for being protective."

"If you're that worried, you can come curl up behind me." Sandra was already shifting, working herself between the two men with lithe grace and tossing her hair to scatter across Noah's chest. "Why, hello there, Claude." The Brit was startled at her sudden interception, one delicate foot pressed against his shoulder and her smile intoxicating. "Not gonna leave me out in the cold, are you?"

"Wouldn't think of it." It took some shifting to get comfortable, but soon they fit onto the bed like Tetris pieces: Noah molded to Sandra's back, Claude on his side with one of her legs thrown over his waist and his legs crossing the bottom of the bed. Noah's arm slid around Sandra's waist, fingers tangled warningly in Claude's hair; Claude rolled his eyes a little, far more occupied with tasting Sandra's skin, licking a curly unpredictable path across her belly until she hummed happily and leaned back into Noah's arms. He was quick to work his way lower, breath ruffling the blonde curls between her legs, hands urging her to part wider.

To his credit, Noah kept quiet, limiting his input to feathery touches of his fingertips and kisses trailed up Sandra's throat, behind her ear, all across her nape. When she started to shudder, he hooked his chin over her shoulder and watched her fingers raking Claude's dark hair.

"Oh..." Far from the confident orders she'd been doling out, Sandra's voice was breathy, almost girlish, at the slip of Claude's tongue through her folds. "Oh, that's _different_, do that again." Noah's growly jealous sound was a rumble against her back, and his hands cupped her breasts, as if he was competing for her attention.

Claude was out of practice, years from the last time he'd nuzzled between a woman's thighs, but Sandra seemed pleased with his careful exploration of her. He traced the labyrinth of her lips: outer, inner, then _in_, tongue curling inside her with the tiny vibration of his sated moan, shaking her whole body exponentially. "Sweet," he mouthed against her, "you're so sweet, Sandra," and went back for more.

Between them, Sandra was rapidly spiraling toward bliss, dizzy between agile hands and a wicked tongue. Watching Noah and Claude together had aroused her more than she'd ever expected, and they were pushing her higher from both sides now, so good she could barely remember to breathe. "Harder," she gasped, and both men complied: Noah pinched her nipples, letting the sweep of his mouth on her shoulder roughen to teeth on her skin; Claude pushed his thumb against her clit, still swirling his tongue inside, and Sandra cried out, hips rising to meet him, her hands tightening in his hair for a moment.

"Beautiful," Noah murmured, running widespread hands over her skin as Sandra shuddered against him, coaxed into boneless ecstasy. Claude moved up on the bed, wincing and rubbing at his scalp, his mouth and chin shiny with Sandra's wetness.

"Steady there, you almost scalped me," he said, but he grinned when Sandra smiled lazily, her blue eyes gone twilit in afterglow. She held out her arms and he settled into them gratefully, surprised by Noah leaning over her shoulder to kiss him with thorough deliberation.

"Wouldn't do that, I like your hair." Sandra shifted enough to get comfortable, the warm soft center of a passionate little three-person world, deeply content. "You better not snore, though." Claude laughed into Noah's lips, surprised and happy.

"You mean I can stay the night?"

"Don't be stupid, Claude." Noah tapped the side of his partner's head lightly, and Sandra 'tsk'ed him.

"We wanted you to have a home for the holiday. Speaking of, what are your plans for Christmas?"


End file.
